


Meet The Parents

by patrician_lurker



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Meet the Family, Villains being friends, gremlin neo, himbo cardin, honestly it's more like Cardin's the pet, my dumb dumb headcanons are running wild, roman pretending to be classy, the cursed Neo/Cardin fanfic nobody asked for is here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26210488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patrician_lurker/pseuds/patrician_lurker
Summary: Thanks to some byzantine laws in their organization charter, Roman and Neo have to meet Cardin's parents for dinner. Still, things are never simple when two master criminals and their dumb muscle is involved! A story about Roman Torchwick being an expert of Modern Valean Landscape Gardens, Neo being obsessed with nuts of all shapes and sizes, and Cardin's fine dining expertise, so, business as usual for these three.Wholesome, canon-compliant(?) crack for the whole villainous family! That's right, folks, we're doing Cardin/Neo meeting each other's parents! (Note: we may or may not get to see the Winchesters. Reader discretion is advised.)
Relationships: Neopolitan & Roman Torchwick, Neopolitan/Cardin Winchester, Roman Torchwick & Cardin Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Meet The Parents

**Author's Note:**

> That’s right. I’m still on this kick. You WILL like Cardin and Neo being friends(?) or so help me I will die on this hill, trying to convince you of my dumb headcanon.  
> All my oneshots are canon with the main fic I’m writing, and this is a sequel to Changing Lightbulbs. Some gags here only make sense with that story!

**i.** **hors d'oeuvre**

Roman Torchwick was nothing if not a patient man.

For example, Roman was willing to overlook the slow, plodding service of the _Vale Regalia_ , acclaimed five-star restaurant, attached to one of the most prestigious SDC-owned hotels in Vale, because you didn’t really _pay_ for quick service in these pompous _fine dining_ establishments – you paid for the _ambiance_ and the cultural capital to be able to say _yes, I’ve eaten at the Regalia, and you haven’t_. Not that Roman was paying in the first place, of course. Thank the good daddy Winchester for that!

Roman was also willing to overlook the alarmingly small portions in their menu. You weren’t really expected to pig out in these fancy restaurants, after all. At least the nuts were refillable, as evidenced by the way Neo had turned them into impromptu ammunition to annoy the other guests and the maître d’. None of the waiters, especially the Faunus server assigned to their table, noticed, of course, or if they did, they were more afraid of missing out on the big tip the guests were leaving at the end of the night.

(Neo never did learn how to stop playing with her food.)

But what tested Roman’s patience was the surreal nature of the entire dinner they were on. Sure, when Roman drafted the by-laws for his criminal organization, he inserted the clause about meeting the parents of underage interns and employees whose legal age was murky, but that was more of a legal loophole, a way for him to cover his ass considering his most trusted henchman’s age was questionable at best. Heck, Roman still wasn’t sure what Neo’s actual age was!

Roman was, for all intents and purposes, Neo’s legal guardian, and since they were always together, they were technically fulfilling the “Meet the Parents” clause in the by-laws, which meant that their less-than-legal operation could continue running in a legal and honest manner. Crime was _weird_ like that, where you were operating outside the confines of the law but still followed strange codes of your own and others.

But now that Roman had recruited the giant teen – Cardin, Roman had to remind himself that the kid had a name, _Cardin_ – it meant he was legally required to meet with the parents and ensure that their _only misbegotten child_ was being treated properly by the criminal mastermind. Which would be fine, if it wasn’t for the fact that Cardin’s parents were the dust-damned _Winchesters_! An outwardly upstanding family with shadowy ties to the _real_ seedy parts of the criminal underworld! (Roman had heard that, in the past, the Winchesters had had political rivals burned at the stake, which Roman thought belonged to the realm of _ancient history._ ) Roman, upon realizing the unintentional connections he had forged, regretted his impulsive decision to hire the idiot teenager as an intern. He didn’t think Cardin would make it, honestly! He just took him in for the laughs! Hell, he didn’t think he’d keep the teenager around for too long!

(He was blaming Neo for that last part, not that Neo would care.)

Which was why he was sitting here, in this fancy restaurant nestled in the center of one of the SDC’s most ostentatious hotel chains – because the Winchester patriarch and his trophy wife _wanted to meet him_. Hence why he, Mace Boy ( _Cardin!_ ), and Neo were here.

Still, just because Roman could stand to wait and be a good little dinner guest didn’t mean he _had_ to, so he motioned to their server, a fair-skinned Dog Faunus waiter (Roman suspected he was a native Atlesian, probably someone who rose up from Mantle, thanks to the accent), clad in a maroon waiter’s vest over a black dress shirt as well as black dress pants, who seemed ill at ease throughout the short duration of their stay, most likely because one of Roman’s dinner companions was the dust-damned heir to the Winchester family. From the corner of his eye, Roman could spot the waiters’ tail stiffen as he noticed Roman’s gaze at him.

“Hey, buddy. I’m bored. Entertain us?” Roman flashed his wicked grin, the one he had spent countless hours practicing in front of various mirrors in various hideouts. He wasn’t Vale’s most dashing criminals for nothing! He had an image to maintain!

Roman took a not-so-inconsiderable amount of glee at the hesitation on the Faunus’ face, as well as how it took the waiter a few seconds to even acknowledge his statement. “N-not sure what you would like, sir.”

In front of him, Cardin cocked his eyebrow but said nothing, choosing to keep his mouth shut in fear of Roman taking out Melodic Cudgel and bopping him on the head again. Roman’s grin widened at the teenagers’ discretion. Looks like Mace Boy was learning! Neo, meanwhile, had upped the stakes, and began tossing two nuts at a time at unsuspecting diners’ drinking glasses. An unfortunate woman’s glass, Roman observed, had become seventy percent cashew and thirty percent drinking water.

“Just wanted to chat, friend.” Roman assured the waiter. He took out one of his cigars and motioned to the waiter, and to the Faunus’ credit, he quickly took out a lighter and lit Roman’s cigar. Cardin looked less than pleased at the act.

“Should you really be smoking here? You _know_ I’m asthmatic.” Cardin asked.

“Oh, kid, we both know you can afford the medication. Besides, Daddy dearest got us seats in the smoking section, didn’t he?” Roman fired back, enjoying the cringing from Cardin. “Might as well enjoy the lovely night sky while we’re here.”

They were seated at the restaurant’s open-air area, an enclosed space in the center of the hotel, filled with all sorts of wildlife, arranged in the Modern Valean landscape garden style to resemble an idyllic, pastoral landscape. (Roman much preferred Modern Valean, with its rolling hills and pastoral aesthetic, to the formal and stuffy _jardin à la valaise_ approach of symmetrical and highly stylized gardens). Roman wasn’t sure what prompted the architectural designs that led to this nightmare of a hotel, with a large, vertical building that seemed to challenge the very notion of functionality that the rest of Vale seemed to pride itself on. It was as if the hotel was designed to shield everything lovely about it from the outside world, allowing only the privileged few to experience the benefits inside. Not to mention the hard-light canopy (design imported from Atlas, of course) that extended over the entirety of the open-air area, designed exclusively to protect the guests from the outside forces of rain and snow while still maintaining the illusion of being in a lovely forest of imported plants and shrubbery. In fact, it was a selling point of the restaurant that guests could enjoy watching the rains fall while enjoying their dinner outside. (One had to wonder _why_ the hotel didn’t have the hard-light technology to serve as protection for the hotel proper, but Roman wasn’t one to question the design choices of buildings he had no intention of robbing blindly…yet) It was SDC lien at work, and Roman had to admire the sheer gall of the design.

Cottagecore sensibilities aside, it was a beautiful night for smoking: the stars in the sky in full display, the soft Valean night winds proving comfortable against Roman’s usual suit (which was extremely _dashing_ , if he could say so himself) even if Cardin, dressed in an ill-fitting tuxedo that Roman glumly noted was probably a rental, was unable to appreciate it due to the coughing fits he was starting to develop, while Neo, who could change her appearance at the drop of the hat, opted to create the illusion of an expensive ballgown dress for herself, a design she had looked up on her scroll five minutes before they entered the hotel. She had also moved on from cashew assault to cashew siege as she attempted to lob multiple cashews into an unsuspecting old gentleman’s wine glass almost three tables over, only to be blocked by both wind resistance and the old gentleman’s much, _much_ taller frame.

“What’s your name, buddy?” Roman directed at the Faunus waiter, who had just replaced Neo’s plate of cashews with an extravagant platter of mixed nuts – walnuts, peanuts, cashes, almonds, even sunflower and pumpkin seeds. Say what you will about the service, or the quantity of the food served, but damn, they had the widest selection of nuts Roman had seen in some while.

“J-Jet, Mr. Torchwick, sir.”

“Oh, you recognize me? I’m flattered.” Roman felt his grin turn predatory, enjoying the squirming of the Faunus waiter.

“Quite hard not to, sir, when you’re on the news regularly, sir.”

“Respectful, too. A bit too much _sir_ , but I like the deferential tone.”

“We’re well-trained, sir. And are good at keeping quiet. Sir.”

Roman chuckled at that last statement before he pulled out his wallet, a soft, black leather thing with a lattice design adorning the outside, and procured a couple of lien cards, and, judging from the widened eyes of the waiter, in colors that the Faunus waiter rarely saw. Roman, in a fluid motion, placed the lien cards on the table.

Roman scanned his companions. Across him was Cardin, eyeing him still, unsure of where Roman was going with this conversation. Neo had left his side and was still trying to defeat the insurmountable wall of the freakishly tall gentleman with the wine glass, and thanks to her semblance, had sneaked closer to the man to dunk her nuts in his glass, paying no attention to his little game. Well, he didn't expect much from Neo right now, anyway.

 _Well, let’s educate the boy, at least_.

“Well… Jem, was it?”

“It’s Jet, actually.”

“Right, Jem. Tell me, you don’t really make good money here, don’t you?”

Jem (Jet?)’s eyes widened. “Not nearly enough. How’d you know? Sir?”

Roman, having exhausted his cigar, withdrew it from his mouth, and Jem (Jet?) procured an ashtray for him. “Look, it’s obvious. I can see your tail; I can tell most of the staff was imported over from Atlas to achieve a certain _look_ and _feel_ to this place. I know how Atlas operates. You’re the token on the staff, aren’t you?”

Jet nodded, his voice turning solemn. “You didn’t hear it from me, sir.”

Roman brushed his hands over the lien cards on the table before continuing. “How’d you like to make a little extra lien on the side? All perfectly legal, of course.”

“It _has_ been a slow night, sir.”

“Considering we _still_ haven’t gotten our appetizer, I couldn’t agree more. Anyway, as for the request…”

Roman cast his eye at another waiter, this one a mousy, black-haired, bespectacled girl who was currently working on a rowdy group of men a few tables away, all clad in suits and ties (much better-looking than Cardin’s, but really, what wasn’t?) and was clearly uncomfortable with the attention they were aiming her way. Unfortunately, said group of men were very clearly _important_ , as the rest of the staff turned a blind eye to what they were doing. No wonder daddy Winchester chose this place to meet with Roman!

Jem (Jet?) followed his look and noticed his colleague, who was looking increasingly frazzled by the leers of the men she was waiting on. He returned his gaze to Roman and nodded.

“I kind of feel bad for her. What’s your manager’s stance on switching tables?”

“He’ll think I’m trying to slack off, sir.”

“Yes, well, I bet he’s not exactly fond of your kind anyway. What’s one more night “slacking off” going to change?” Roman asked, before adding, “…especially when someone’s feeling mighty generous tonight.”

Roman looked at Cardin, who was following the exchange with an utterly confused look on his face, before continuing. “Let’s just say… I’m trying to lighten my wallet since carrying _this_ much Lien around is dangerous, considering how many _nasty_ criminals roam our streets freely, and at the same time, I may or may not prefer looking at nice-looking human waitresses over the Faunus waiter who looks like he doesn’t want to be here. Catch my drift?”

Jem (Jet?) nodded slowly, his eyes transfixed on the lien cards that Roman had now palmed, holding them between his right thumb and index fingers, before nodding and grabbing the lien cards from Roman, depositing them in his vest pocket and making his way to the front of the house. Once the waiter was out of earshot, Roman turned to Cardin, who was, as expected, still processing everything.

“The heck was that for?” Cardin asked, confused by the whole exchange. “You seriously didn’t just throw away all that lien to get the plain jane waitress to go here, right?”

“What? No. Don’t be stupid, Karen.”

“Cardin.”

“Right. Look, Cardin, your father clearly picked this place to teach you a lesson, and since he’s not here, it’s up to me to pick up the slack.”

“Well, at least you’re finally teaching me stuff. Dad doesn’t even do that.”

“Yeah, I’m not here to listen to your sob story. I’ll explain what I’m doing once…” Roman replied, trying to grab nuts to snack on, only to find that the little gremlin, Neo, had taken his nuts as well. He looked around for Neo and realized that the two of them had left her unattended. “Oh, for…”

“I’ll handle it,” Cardin sighed, standing up to retrieve Neo, who had somehow instigated a fight between the rowdy group of men harassing the waitress Roman was spying on earlier, while off in the corner, the lady with the drinking glass was complaining to their waiter about how she almost choked on cashews in her drinking glass, and a few tables over, an old gentleman was utterly confused by the nuts that had pooled by his feet. They hadn’t been there for thirty minutes and things had begun to derail already.

_And our appetizers still aren’t here!_

\---0---

**ii. appetizer**

When it became apparent that the Winchesters were running late to their own meeting (not that this surprised Cardin much) the trio decided to order their food, just in time for the brown-haired waitress to approach them. The Faunus waiter must have told her about all the Lien Roman was carrying around, because Cardin noticed that the waitress had _subtly_ undone the top button of her dress shirt. Hell, if she was willing to do that for Roman, Cardin thought, why didn’t she just allow the men a few tables to leer at her? Cardin felt that he would never understand women.

Speaking of not understanding women, Cardin was watching Neo in confusion as she frantically waved her hands around and pointed at the (presumably) dessert menu to the waitress. Leave it to Neo to focus on _that_.

What surprised him, though, was that the waitress began gesturing back at Neo, with the similar hand signs and movements that he recognized as sign language. Not that he spoke it, no – he just knew the basics because he had spent a lot of time with Neo lately. He wasn’t going to learn the language just for her!

Still, as he watched the two have an argument over sign language, Cardin couldn’t help but interject. “Huh, I’m surprised you know how to talk to the midget, uh...” He tried to recall the name of the waitress. Did she introduce herself as _Karen_ or _Carmen?_

“Sir?” Karen (Carmen?) replied, cocking her head to the side. “You… don’t know sign language?”

“Do I look like I do?” Cardin replied, irritated. “It’s a waste of time to learn it.”

“I… see.” Karen (Carmen?) answered back. “You see, the young madam here is insistent on procuring… ah… durian ice cream for the two of you, but it isn’t available on our menu.”

“Oh, for…” Cardin began to say, scratching his head. “Neo, look at me.”

“…”

“I _told_ you to stop harassing the people here. You already made a mess of things today.”

“!”

“Yes, I did say this place had a really good dessert menu, but I never promised there was durian.”

“!!!”

“I’m not a freakin’ liar, you gremlin!”

“…”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll grab your dust-damned durian ice cream tomorrow. Happy?”

At that, Neo began to clap, and finally handed the dessert menu back to the frazzled waitress. Well, it was better than dealing with lecherous men, Cardin thought. Besides, there really wasn’t anything to leer at with her, unfortunately…

Cardin winced as Neo stomped on his foot.

He did his best to ignore Roman’s pointed looks at the two of them for the few minutes before their appetizers arrived. As he watched the waitress deliver their food, Cardin still couldn’t figure out _why_ his boss had paid all that money to get the plain jane waitress (Karen? Carmen?) to serve them instead, but he had to admit he preferred the shy, mousy girl who spoke sign language to the dog Faunus who kept giving him the stink-eye. At least the girl moved faster and had more energy, even if it was to get away from the men from the other table over! It was better that they were servile rather than passive-aggressive, since, while he was used to the servants being somewhat wary around him, even uppity at times, Cardin wasn’t used to the help being outright hostile to him, especially as they turned around and acted docile around his boss and his sideck- _partner_. Well, Cardin supposed, he _was_ one of the most infamous crime bosses in Vale, while Cardin was a _Winchester_ , and Winchesters inevitably attracted jealousy from the rabble. Still, it was a strange feeling, Cardin thought, being treated so differently from others for something he had no control over. It wasn’t like he asked to be born with the Winchester name! This was _discriminatory_!

In front of him, Roman was fumbling with the cutlery, and Cardin was appalled to see Roman use the wrong fork to dig into his creamy asparagus risotto with lemon and mascarpone like a dust-damned uneducated _savage_. It was even more disgusting for Cardin to see his boss _wince_ at the taste of the risotto, like it wasn’t the culinary delight that Cardin knew and loved! It was almost like his boss had an unrefined palate! No wonder, considering how much he smoked his damned cigars like an amateur… Neo, meanwhile, had _finally_ calmed down from her rampage and was busy chucking scallops into her mouth with her fingers. Cardin could only watch in horror as she proceeded to dip her fingers into the butternut squash puree, licking her fingers to savor the taste. Her warm salad was left untouched, which didn’t really surprise Cardin, but the sight of the greens ignored at the center of Neo’s plate left Cardin uneasy.

Cardin huffed at the barbarity in display as he continued to taste his Consommé Olga with scallops, making sure he was using the correct soup spoon, practicing the proper etiquette _(hold the soup spoon’s handle by the end with your middle finger, with your thumb on top –_ not your index finger, your middle finger, you buffoon _, dip the spoon sideways, then skim from the front of the bowl to the back, sip from the side of the spoon_ , and for gods’ sake, Cardin, try not to sip loudly, will you _?)_ because etiquette was all that men had to hold onto in uncivilized times. If his mother was here, then Cardin would probably only earn one smack on the head. Progress!

“Will you _please_ stop sipping your soup like you’re a Schnee?” Roman asked, his face scrunched up in annoyance. “Honestly, this is freaking me out.”

“Yes, well, if people saw you eating like a savage right now, your public persona would collapse in a heartbeat.”

“Oh ho. Kiddy has claws.” Roman rolled his eyes. “You’ve worked with me for how long now? A few weeks? You should know how I operate.”

Oh, Cardin did. While he could admit that he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, he learned well under pressure, and after the fiftieth Melodic Cudgel tap to various parts of his body (nothing he wasn’t used to, of course), it would have been ignorance for Cardin _not_ to learn the lessons Roman wanted to impart on him. And, Cardin recalled, one of the most important lessons Roman was determined to teach was the importance of _appearances_. Roman believed wholeheartedly in this, what with the way he presented himself in public, and considering his choice in sideki- _partners_ , it was no surprise that Neo’s semblance turned out to be physical illusions. Combined with Roman’s preference for cigars (even though he _clearly_ had no idea how to properly cut up and smoke cigars) and the two were a real smoke and mirrors act.

But as Roman’s repeated strikes reminded Cardin, appearances mattered more than reality, the metaphor more powerful than the real. It didn’t matter that Roman and Neo were slobs in real life, or that Roman didn’t actually know how to wear a bowtie properly, or eat fancy food in a fancy setting, or that he grew up in the streets of Vale with a country accent so thick that whenever he slipped into it, Neo _laughed_. Because what mattered was how he appeared to others, how he maintained his image to the public, how the unions and his… business partners perceived him. Wasn’t that why he was always lecturing Cardin to watch his more… colorful language around their partners?

“Alright, kid, let’s start the lesson now that I’ve got some food in me.” Cardin heard Roman begin to say. “Tell me, why are you sipping your soup like a dainty little waif?”

“Uh, because it’s good manners? I was raised better?”

Roman rolled his eyes, a common occurrence that evening. “And tell me, who’s paying for our meal?”

“My dad.”

“Tell me who the clientele of this restaurant is, and why we’re here.”

“Business associates, people living in the less-than-legal side of Vale, people working for the Great Underground Families of Vale?” Over the past few weeks, Roman had been drilling the make-up of the criminal elements in Vale – the families who held seats on the Council, the organizations that operated around the Kingdoms, the various alliances at play, and while Cardin was slow to recall the specifics, he was now more or less familiar with the intricate web of enemies and allies. “This place is a safe zone for our organization, and Dad is a major player in these circles. They recognize me, and they recognize you and Neo.”

“Exactly! So, pray tell, why would I need to put up appearances in a place like this?” With that, Roman placed his legs atop the table and leaned back against his chair, his hands behind his head. Cardin did his best to ignore how their waitress, Karen (Carmen?) was ignoring his blatant disrespect for social etiquette, as well as the weird looks from the people in the open area who weren’t _necessarily_ familiar with the intricacies of the clientele. “There’s a reason daddy dearest chose this place, and why Neo and I can just waltz in without worrying about cops or huntsmen trying to arrest us.”

“Because this is our territory?”

“Because these people aren’t worth it. They _know_ who we are, so bluffing doesn’t work. It’s a waste of time and effort, so we may as well show them we aren’t going to just smile and nod at them like it’s a friggin’ high society dance in Atlas. Plus, it’s a good show of power, showing off that I’m allied with the Winchester family and I don’t give a rat’s ass about decorum.”

Roman, timing that last statement perfectly, let out a huge burp.

“Here’s the lesson, kiddo: in places like this, putting up appearances doesn’t necessarily mean wearing an ill-fitting suit and eating your soup properly. Sometimes it means showing people you don’t care about their etiquette and their rules.” Roman paused for a moment before continuing. “That’s probably what daddy dearest wanted to teach you anyway.”

Cardin nodded, before asking his second question. “So why pay off the Faunus?”

“ _Now_ you’re asking the million Lien questions.” Roman motioned to their waitress (Karen? Carmen?), who was hovering nearby, and she moved to refill his drinking glass with water.

Roman began to speak again once she was out of earshot. “Kid, do you know how to find loyal minions in a job like this?

“No?” Cardin’s ears pricked up at interest with this statement. Glynda never talked about these things in Beacon! He kept his minions loyal with promises of wealth and power with the Winchester family, but that was tenuous at best, and Cardin knew that if he didn’t have the Winchester name behind him that someone (Russel?) would do something stupid like try to usurp his position.

“See, it’s simple. You look for the people with just a little bit of morality, just a little _spark_ of hope that things can be better.” Roman cocked his head towards the direction of the dog Faunus, who was now serving the group of rowdy men. His face was still wearing his business smile. “Poor Faunus like him knows he’s the diversity hire, and that he’s not paid as much by the people here, that all he’s there for is appearances. But he’s got spirit. He’s holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, if he works hard enough, he’ll rise above his station.”

Roman continued to motion at the table Jem (Jet?) was serving, where one of the men was now shouting at the Faunus waiter. Cardin watched the way the men dressed down the waiter about something stupid, probably something like the appetizer not being up to snuff. _Not like they’d know good food if it hit them in the face_ , Cardin complained in his head.

“But tonight will remind him that the real world doesn’t _care_ about spirit. And when he’s broken down, tell me: who’s he going remember at the end of the night? His employees, paying him peanuts to work a job with no hope of advancing? Or the nice gentleman who understood his difficulties as a Faunus and gave him a big tip without doing anything but switch places with the poor, abused waitress?”

Cardin’s eyes opened in realization. “The waitress was just a bonus.”

“Of course. She’s just eye candy,” Roman smirked. “But now we have a disgruntled Faunus working for Atlesians he’s always despised but ignored because it pays the bills. And when he looks at the tips tonight, he’ll find a couple of invitations to some select political rallies by friends of ours. And a little birdie told me this, but _maybe_ there were instructions for a little harmless prank in the kitchen. Nothing _illegal,_ although he could be fired if he’s caught.”

Cardin nodded, processing all the knowledge that Roman had just passed on to him. “Why are you telling me all this? Even my dad refuses to teach me anything.”

“Take a wild guess,” Roman replied, avoiding the question. “The most loyal people are those with _just_ a little bit of morality left in them. You can’t trust half the people in this room,” and he motioned to the rest of the open area, “because they’re career criminals and they’re used to stabbing each other in the back. No ideology at all besides themselves. You want to go to people with a _speck_ of morality. Just a little bit. Those are always the most desperate and the most fanatical. That’s _my_ lesson to you.”

“You certainly put a lot of thought into this,” Cardin finally replied, after a few moments of hesitation. “Is that how you got the squirt to be loyal to you?”

“First of all,” Roman sighed, “I only figured this out by watching our dysfunctional employers.”

“What, the walking, uh, adult film star reject and that street rat bitch? All Little Miss Street Rat does is fawn over Miss 18+ ASMR. What do they have to do with this?”

“Figure it out on your own,” Roman spat out in return. “Second of all, bold of you to assume she’s loyal to _me_.”

Cardin snorted at that remark. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious here, kid. No one earns Neo’s loyalty. What we have is… what’s the word?” Roman took the moment to think on the subject matter, before continuing, “…trust. Yeah, that’s the one. We trust each other.”

“What’s the difference? Right now, you’re just tricking that Faunus over to our side.”

“Well.” Roman replied. “Loyalty makes _sense_. You do good things for someone, they respond positively. You can do it for ulterior motives, or trick them into it, or take advantage of their desperation, but at the end of the day, you do good things for someone, and in return, they pledge their loyalty to _you_. It’s all very manipulative, really.”

“And trust?”

“Trust _makes no goddamn sense_. You either earn it or you don’t. And it’s hard to lose someone’s trust. You’d have to do something monumentally stupid or keep making little mistakes repeatedly.”

Cardin scratched his head, as the explanation had become increasingly vague. “That makes no sense.”

Silence befell the two men, as the sounds of the people dining in the restaurant washed over their table. Cardin looked at his unfinished Consommé, which had gone cold thanks to their rather lengthy conversation, and wondered if he even had the stomach to finish it. Something had settled in the pit of his stomach, something that burrowed deep inside him, a cold and unsettling feeling that spread throughout his body. Cardin looked up and observed the night sky and the stars dotting the darkness, filtered by the hard-light canopy, protecting the restaurant goers from the outside world. For some reason, Cardin didn’t feel very secure, despite the advanced technology.

Roman opened the conversation again. “Your parents coming yet?”

“No, they haven’t replied.”

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course they didn’t.”

Now what did _that_ mean? Cardin didn’t have the guts to clarify, so he asked a different question.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“So… where do I fit in all this? Am I like the waiter, too?”

To Cardin’s discomfort, Roman was unable to answer.

Instead of pushing the question, Cardin cast his gaze at where Neo was sitting, only to realize that the mute girl had disappeared _again_. Cardin began to panic. _Where in the world did Neo go?!_

\---0---

**iii. entrée**

With the Winchester family granting them entry into one of the more prestigious SDC-owned hotel chains in Vale, there was no way Roman and Neo _weren’t_ going to rob them blind at some point in the night. The only thing stopping them was how _easy_ it all seemed, and therefore how suspicious – the invitation to meet at the _Vale Regalia_ was tantamount to inviting wolves into the sheep pens, asking the wolves politely _not_ to eat the sheep, and turning in for bed. Honestly, it was on them if anything got stolen!

Roman was, in fact, positive that this was one of those infamous Winchester tests meant to induct them into the fold. The lavish dinner, all expenses paid, and the open invitation to a gated community that only _specific_ types of people were allowed was a red flag, and as Neo wandered the halls of the hotel, having excused herself to go the, ahem, ladies room, she recalled Roman’s warning about tripping obvious traps. (To Neo’s annoyance, Cardin didn’t even _notice_ when she excused herself, as he was wrapped up in a conversation with Roman.) No matter how much the Winchesters tried to win their loyalty, Neo and Roman only trusted each other, after all. Neo would never be loyal to a Winchester!

The plan was simple: they were running a three-man shell game, even if the third man was unaware of his role. Roman was running the double bluff, as the person people assumed would pull the con and steal something from the hotel, while Neo was the one doing all the _real_ tricks. Cardin was just a patsy, a title that Neo had to accept was Cardin’s lot in life. As much as she believed in the boy-giant’s potential to be a good, hulking muscle for her boss, that was all he had going for him!

Recalling Roman's lessons, Neo focused on the basics of the con. The basis of a shell game was simple: you had to trick the mark into thinking the game was, well, winnable, and not rigged. Meanwhile, you stacked the deck: Neo, whose actual appearance was unknown thanks to her semblance, pretended to be a bratty child who listened only to Cardin. Roman, meanwhile pulled the little switcheroo with the waiters, in a way that was extremely blatant to the cameras and the guards, and now their observers kept their eye on Roman and Cardin, expecting some grand heist plan from both Roman and the Faunus waiter (Jem? Jet?). And Cardin… Cardin just had to be there and do exactly as Neo trusted he would.

Still, Neo had to admit, Cardin did his job well. The little stunt with the nuts took the heat off her, especially the way that Cardin pried her away from causing more trouble. Neo didn’t miss how the guards’ attention shifted from her to her boss and her… _pet_ , no doubt assuming that she was going to be harmless for the rest of the night and that the worst thing she would be doing would be nut-based offence.

Well, it was _true_ , in a way, if by nut-based offense they meant “Neo disabling the security cameras with well-aimed nut bullets.” (Who knew sunflower seeds made for potent ammunition?)

Instead of heading to the ladies’ room, Neo was busy knocking out the guards patrolling the hallway leading to the basement, where the hard-light dust for the canopy was stored. Finding the entire process entirely routine, Neo instead pondered on the plan. It was a two-man job at first, Neo having done the preliminary investigation to figure out the floor plan, patrols, and the location of all the security cameras. Roman, meanwhile, ironed out the details of the plan: the distractions, the bluffs, the misdirection… that was why they worked well together, since they covered each other’s blind spots perfectly. Neo wasn’t exactly the best with plans, and she could admit that without Roman, she was likely to make bad strategic decisions, like allying with the wrong people to achieve her goals, and Roman was just as likely to die out there without her to save him from himself. For all that the two despised Vale and its weak-kneed credos about heroism and justice, they had to admit that the partner system was a brilliant creation.

But something about Cardin’s role didn’t sit well with Neo. It wasn’t any different from the first dust robbery they committed with his (unwitting) help, the one where they left him high and dry as they fled the scene and Cardin was arrested for being an accomplice, but that was _weeks_ ago, and something in their dynamic had changed in the intervening weeks. Maybe it was the way that Cardin looked so excited when his parents informed him that they wanted to meet his employers, the way he talked about how he looked forward to finally introducing Roman and Neo, and that maybe, _just maybe,_ his mom would finally approve of his choice of comrades and his dad would finally give him a compliment without being hit a couple of times by his father’s mace first. Maybe it was the trust that Cardin placed in his parents arriving to the meeting, even when Neo had pieced together from Cardin’s stories the simple fact that the Winchesters never kept their promises, and Cardin either never caught on or ignored all the red flags.

Or maybe Neo was just being whimsical and wanted to be nice to her new pet. Who knows?

Well, regardless of the reason, Neo wasn’t exactly _comfortable_ with relegating Cardin to patsy duty, even if it _was_ the best use of his… lack of skill. Which was why, hopefully, Roman was explaining Cardin’s part of the plan now, the one revision to the plan that Neo insisted on. Because dammit, she finally found someone who enjoyed durian ice cream! That was _rare!_

Speaking of rare things, it was rare for Neo’s jobs to go smoothly, but the lack of security as she approached the dust storage facility was a rarity. Her goal, the extremely rare (and expensive) hard-light dust that the hotel used for the canopy overlooking the _Vale Regalia_ , was supposed to be well-defended based on her initial investigations, but here she was, using Hush to knock out the few security guards and her scroll to hack into the security systems and erase any evidence of her infiltration, and nobody was around to stop her. She supposed she had to be thankful for the _accidental_ fire that sprouted from the kitchens, drawing away most of the personnel, which _coincidentally_ was the same time that she excused herself to from the table to, ahem, head to the ladies’ room.

Well, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Or in this case, was it a dog Faunus in the mouth?

\---0---

**iv. dessert**

“How the heck did you convince the Faunus to start the fire?” Neo heard Cardin ask.

“It was a _really_ good signing bonus.”

“And the hard-light canopy failing?”

“Probably Neo messing with the controls.”

As Neo waltzed her way back to the table, ignoring the panicked looks of the customers and the various support staff running around like headless chickens, she ran into Cardin and Roman, who had left their table in the middle of the main course when the fire began to worsen and the people in the open-air section lost the protection of the hard-light canopy. People slowly began to filter out of the restaurant, guided by the staff, and Neo noted the brown-haired waitress (Karen? Carmen?) apologizing profusely to Roman for the inconvenience, only for Roman to slip a piece of paper to her hands. Neo groaned at that.

She bounced up to Cardin, wrapping her arms around his, and began pulling him away from the rest of the crowds. With a great _pull_ , she dragged Cardin down on his knees to look him in the eye.

“What? What is it?”

“…”

“ _How was it_? Shit, if you just told me you had a plan to rob this place, I could have been in it from the start!”

“!”

“My parents? No, they never came. I bet they had a fight over something stupid again. Maybe dad caught the pool boy? Maybe mom didn’t like me allying with you two?”

“…?”

“Why would I be sad? It’s just a shame they didn’t get to meet you.”

Neo frowned and took out Hush, lightly hitting Cardin on the head with the umbrella. As Cardin winced and rubbed his head to soothe the pain, Neo raised her left hand and rubbed Cardin’s head, running her hands over his head and caressing the throbbing bump she inflicted. That was how you treated pets, right? They liked head pats?

The act caught Roman’s attention, as he let out a guffaw at the sight of Neo domesticating her pet. Honestly, what was so funny about it? She withdrew her hands and cast an annoyed look at Roman, who wilted under her gaze and held back whatever witty comment he wanted to say. Knowing Roman, Neo thought, he probably would have chided how easily Neo gave her trust away.

Nevertheless, the trio continued walking, following the throng of people as they exited the hotel. In the confusion, the three managed to slip past most of the hotel security with little hassle, and as the three walked out into the night sky, Roman leading the way while humming a tune and Neo clinging on to Cardin’s massive frame, Neo let out a silent giggle. She disentangled herself from Cardin and skipped her way past Roman, turning to face her boss with a questioning look.

“ _Yes_ , Neo, I told him what our plan was.”

“…?”

“Ugh, fine.” Roman turned around and looked at Cardin, asking, “Well, kid, how was your first official job with us?”

“Not very satisfying, honestly. It feels I didn’t really _do_ much. I wasn’t even part of the planning.”

“I mean, you don’t really have much to contribute besides being a huge decoy.”

“If you say so, boss.”

Neo watched the two as an uneasy silence befell them. _What did those two talk about over dinner?_ She tapped Roman on the side, trying to suss out an answer to him, but Roman simply shrugged at her. Neo cast her eyes at Cardin, who was looking down on his feet as he walked. _What’s bothering him?_

To her relief, Roman coughed and continued the conversation. “For what it’s worth, kid, you did a good job.”

Cardin let out a sheepish grin. “Yeah… I just wish my parents got to see me in action.”

 _Oh, for…_ did he not realize what was happening here? Neo supposed this was the power of trust. You’d have to do something monumentally stupid or keep making little mistakes repeatedly to lose it. And Cardin, bless him, wasn’t exactly the most observant of people to notice the mistakes piling up. Roman and Neo figured out how the night would go from the start, and they haven’t even _met_ Cardin’s parents yet!

Well, that was why he only had potential to be hired muscle at best, Neo supposed. Still, he was hers, now, and Neo took good care of her pets. And when pets were sad, it was the owner’s responsibility to take care of them until they felt better again. Neo wasn’t getting involved with Cardin and his parents, no sir, that was his mess to fix. All she had to offer was head pats and durian ice cream.

So she grabbed Cardin’s hand and trusted in the Winchester agreeing to follow along. If the fancy restaurant didn’t have the ice cream they liked, then damn it, they were going to get it themselves!

**v. to-go**

_A Simple Wok_ wasn’t exactly dessert, but honestly, Roman was still hungry after their little getaway (and the simply _disgraceful_ portions served to them), so the trio took a detour to the noodle shop first.

“Eat away, kid. My treat.” Roman gestured to the shopkeep, who nodded and accepted his Lien card. “Oh, and do try to slurp loudly while eating here. It’s considered polite in these circles, and we do want to keep up appearances.”

Cardin nodded, initially wary of the food in front of him, but after a moment’s hesitation, he began to dig into the frankly absurd bowl of noodles in front of him. Neo, off to Cardin’s side, was already happily digging into her bowl, a strange concoction of noodles and… was that a whole tuna ( _was it raw?!)_ on top? Roman had long stopped asking questions about Neo’s culinary… interests, and he wasn’t exactly interested in whatever it was Neo ate in her free time, but it _was_ an interesting, if absurd name. Who names their noodles _The Blake_?

Roman observed as Neo nudged Cardin on the side, relentlessly, until Cardin gave in to her prodding. “ _Yes_ , Neo, I’ll buy you the durian tomorrow.”

“…”

“ _Yes_ , Neo. I’ll get enough for the both of us.”

“!”

Roman laughed internally as Cardin threw his hands up in the air to surrender to the pink gremlin, who was still staring daggers at him as she tugged at his arms. He took a bite out of his noodles and _slurped_ , enjoying the feel of the noodles slipping into his mouth before he turned to Cardin again.

“Oh, yeah, one last lesson, kid.”

“Huh? Whuzzat?” Cardin replied, finally managing to detach Neo from his arms.

“Remember our talk about appearances?”

“Yeah?”

“Now, consider this an addendum. I doubt your parents want to teach you this.”

“Uh-huh.”

“There’s another reason you can let your guard down and not worry about appearances.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“When you’re around people you trust.”

Cardin guffawed. “That’s got to be the stupidest, cheesiest crap I’ve ever heard.”

Roman let out a good-natured chuckle. He returned to his noodles, enjoying the broth and the taste of the noodles on his mouth, keeping one eye on his new teen charge. Cardin had removed the ill-fitting tuxedo and was now clad in his dress shirt, and honestly, the dress shirt fit him better. At least he wasn’t wearing something that didn’t fit him! The teen giant also began digging earnestly into his noodles, and Roman could swear that he could hear Cardin loudly slurp his noodles, his habits messier than with that dust-damned clear soup of his. Roman smiled as Neo picked on Cardin’s bowl as well, trying to grab whatever she wanted off Cardin’s meal.

While Cardin was trying to pry off the little gremlin from his bowl, Roman asked another question.

“Well, kid? Does this answer your question?”

Cardin paused, unable to answer. Roman ignored his dumfounded look and laughed at Neo, who took the opportunity to steal Cardin’s char siu. Not his fault Cardin wasn’t sure how to respond!

It was fine that Cardin couldn’t answer the question. These kinds of things took time to process, and as far as partnerships went, they weren’t there yet, no, not by a long shot. But they could wait. They had all the time in the world, and Roman Torchwick was nothing if not a patient man.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a prompt from the RWBY Nook writing discord, the prompt being "Meet the Parents". Join us to join a community of chill, friendly fanfic writers who just wanna write good fanfics! Shoot me a message for an invite!
> 
> Also, what's the name of the Neo/Cardin ship? Because if there isn't one, I propose Stakes and Ice Cream. Well? What do you think? Both the ship name and this story? Tell me in the comments below!


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